


The Presence of Absence

by romantic_drift



Series: Defying Gravity [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: (So Much), (less minor but still not major), (still Team Free Will!), AU of an AU, Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blaine Friendly, M/M, Musical References, Papa Bear Burt, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Relationship Mystery, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romantic_drift/pseuds/romantic_drift
Summary: The first time Kurt sees Sebastian in ten years, he thinks it's a dream.Then Kurt finds out that while he's been busy making it on Broadway and getting divorced, Sebastian has graduated from law school, almost-married someone, and found enough free time to direct a charity musical. The same musical Kurt just agreed to co-direct.There might have been a small chance of things turning out well, except Kurt's ex-boyfriend is still bitingly rude, and scorchingly hot.(Adults in a Soulmate AU where at 18, your soulmate's name is imprinted on your ring finger, leading to the custom of wedding rings - White, Looking. Silver, Found. Gold, Married. Black, Dead)(A divergence AU of my AUIt's Hard to be the One to Stay)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! With the delicious pining fic I promised. 
> 
> It is a bit miraculous that this fic is seeing the light of day, but as always, I must thank my urge to procrastinate by writing fic and not taking care of my adult responsibilities. 
> 
> It's essentially fanfic of fanfic, and has a lot happening in it: showbiz! lawyers! social justice! kids! second chances! mystery! soulmates! Stick with me, I promise to treat you well on this journey. 
> 
> (This diverges about midway from my first AU, [It's Hard to be the One to Stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882390). This story stands alone, but is definitely enriched by knowing the first story, so I recommend you read it if you haven't!)
> 
> WARNING: Implied potential (emotional) infidelity - depends on your definitions

My imagination's done a spectacular job this time, Kurt thinks as he looks Sebastian.

He’s dreamed up a very good version of grown-up Sebastian this time around, one that resonates accurately with the passage of time. The standard Upper East Side haircut has replaced Sebastian’s old boy band hair, and his double-popped collars have made way for a well-cut suit jacket, one that emphasizes how his lean frame has filled out since Kurt’s last memory of him.

He looks good.

Kurt isn’t surprised at Sebastian’s presence in his dreams. It’s happened on-and-off for years, and more frequently after the divorce than he’d like to admit.

He is, however, mildly ashamed that it’s not Blaine instead. It’s been nearly a year since Sebastian’s last nocturnal appearance, and the second anniversary of his divorce was right around the corner.

If it had been wistful visions of his ex-husband, he would have at least had an explanation.

Seeing an apparition of his first boyfriend, nearly a decade after they broke up, is in every universe just pathetic.

That specter flicks his eyes—they were never that green in real life, were they?—towards Kurt, and then back towards the pair of teens performing a heartfelt rendition of All I Ask of You.

And then flick right back.

And grow wide with shock.

Kurt has no doubt his eyes mirror that emotion exactly.


	2. When Past is not Past (September, 2023)

**When Past is not Past (September, 2023)**

"So…” Elliott says, as he takes a dramatic sip of whiskey. Kurt has never understood first, how Elliott makes everything he does look dramatic, and second, how his favorite drink can then be the boring whiskey on the rocks. “Your problem is that your ex is really hot. Still.”

“That’s not the point!” Kurt hisses. He gulps down his Black Russian in one swallow. 

“Then get to the point, queen. I’ve been hearing you freak out about him _alllll_ night.”

“I told you already! He’s going to be co-directing the youth arts center’s spring musical with me!”

“Yeah, you’ve said,” Elliott says.

“And he—”

“Was polite?” Elliott fills in wryly.

Kurt opens his mouth to recount everything _again_ , except Elliot has on his signature _uhmmm_ face, the one that telegraphs he thinks you're as tragic as flip-flops.

“So you walked into the rehearsal room with Monica, the center’s executive director, on your first day as volunteer. Lo and behold, you see Sebastian Smythe, standing there in a gorgeous suit watching the kids perform. You two stare at each other,” Elliott recounts, his voice absolutely flat. “Then he comes over and Monica introduces you two. Because she hadn't missed the two of you staring at each other like idiots, she asks if you two know each other. Sebastian responds that you were a year ahead of him in high school, and you two had been part of the school’s all-male acapella group together. You two shake hands again, and then he goes back to criticizing the kids. Am I missing anything?”

“Well,” Kurt falters. “No—but—”

Kurt doesn’t—he doesn’t know how to tell Elliott that hearing Sebastian introduce him, in the pleasantest of voices, as a former classmate and fellow Warbler member and nothing more, felt like punch to the lungs, in a way that made keeping a smile on his face a struggle. He almost wishes Sebastian had shot snide, vitriolic insults at him instead. 

Or, Kurt _could_ say this to Elliott, but he can just imagine how _that_ would sound. He feels pitiful enough already. 

It’s only that—it’s only that Sebastian in the flesh stood out in all the ways Kurt’s half-forgotten, or thought he made up. 

The confidence in his posture, the magnetism that draped over his clothes, the sharp smile he flashed when he delivered what Kurt is sure—even though he was too far away to have really heard—was a biting comment to a kid.

Those green eyes that pierced Kurt from across the room.  

Kurt can’t work with Sebastian for the next four months. He can’t.

“Kurt,” Elliott says, his voice gentling all of a sudden. “It’d help if you’d tell me more than that Sebastian was your high school boyfriend. I can’t offer any advice if I don’t know anything.”

Sometimes Kurt forgets that Elliott is one of his best friends for a reason. He can read Kurt’s expressions as well as either Rachel and Santana, and he has much higher levels of compassion and much lower levels of self-absorption. 

Kurt sighs, and rubs his eyes.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Elliott enough to tell him. It’s that he doesn’t talk about it with anyone, _ever._ If Rachel and Santana hadn’t known Sebastian from the beginning, they wouldn’t have know either.

But Kurt is 28, almost 29. He shouldn’t be this much of a weakling. 

He's grateful he's already downed three drinks at this point. 

“It wasn’t just a pre-Name relationship,” Kurt says at last, each word feeling like a fingernail being forcibly ripped out. Elliott’s face frowns in confusion.

“It was, it was a lot more serious than that,” Kurt says. “I was convinced that we were each other’s Names, that I would spend my life with him.”

“But—” Elliott begins, then stops himself. 

Kurt knows where he’s looking at. His fingers twist, self-consciously, the white band on his ring finger. For almost seven years, it had been a silver ring, the _Blaine Anderson_ carved on the inside matching perfectly the _Blaine Anderson_ imprinted on the skin underneath. The first time Elliott met him, he was already wearing it. 

Back then, every time the ring caught the light as he moved his hands, it had seemed magical to him. Wondrous. Unbelievable.

“It didn’t work out,” Kurt says, because that is all he can bear to say. Memories of the past taste like ash in the back of his throat. He feels dizzy, and like he’s about to gag. “The break-up was messy.”

For a while, they only sit in silence. Kurt knows Elliott is remembering his own past love affairs, the one that almost made it, that might not have been his Name but lingers to this day.

Finally, Elliott drops a warm hand onto Kurt’s shoulder and squeezes. His bangles clink as he shifts back onto his seat. 

“Stop worrying,” he says. “You’re more tenacious than a chihuahua. You’ve endured NYADA, clawed your way up the showbiz totem pole, survived a brutal divorce, _and_ managed to salvage a friendship with your ex-husband. In comparison, running a charity musical with your ex should be a walk in the park.”

Kurt smiles, less because he really believes that and more because he can hear the faith in _Elliott’s_ voice for him.

“Anyway, this Sebastian seems nice enough, and like he’s willing to put things aside,” Elliott continues. “How bad could it be?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll see more of Sebastian next time, because I'm a tease. 
> 
> No idea or promise about when the next chapter will come, so subscribe if you want to keep up with updates. But I'll try to put them up as fast as I can for you!


	3. Test Take (September, 2023)

**Test-Take (September, 2023)**

“As much as I respect your _professional_ opinion,” Sebastian says, sounding more like Kurt’s professional opinion doesn’t even deserve to be scraped off the bottom of his Giacometti shoes, “I’ve been working with the Triple A kids for going on three years, so you should trust me when I tell you that Mary is a better fit for Angelica. Perry will make a perfectly adequate Eliza.”

The fake courtesy in that statement, in his demeanor for the entirety of the two hours they’ve been sitting in auditions, grates on Kurt’s nerves more than anything in recent memory. Kurt would’ve said before today that after several seasons on Broadway, his patience and temper have improved tremendously from his high school days. But then, he hadn’t been re-introduced to Sebastian Smythe. 

“And I keep telling _you_ that Mary is charismatic and really fucking talented and can _definitely_ do Eliza. She definitely _can’t_ do Angelica—or did you not hear how she couldn't handle the rap?” Kurt bites back.

Then he winces, because he had sworn before he stepped out of his apartment this morning that he wouldn’t regress in front of Sebastian.

“I never said she _wasn’t_ charismatic or talented," Sebastian says. "The problem is that she’s also _unprepared_ —or didn’t you notice how she couldn't do the rap because she fumbled the lyrics?”

“Then we’ll make sure she’s prepared for the actual performance,” Kurt insists. There was something familiar and endearing about Mary’s drive, and it made Kurt certain she would rise to any challenge she encountered. “It’s better than having someone _less good,_ which is what’ll happen if we give Angelica to Mary and Eliza to Perry. And Mary wants it a lot more—”

“I’m aware, thanks, I’ve worked with these kids for years before you ever met them,” Seb snaps. “Which is how I know Mary’s a classic over-achiever. She doesn’t even really want the role of Eliza, she just wants the principal role—”

“So what if she wants to be the star?” Kurt says. “If _you’re_ one to judge people’s egos now, things really must have changed.”

It’s dangerous territory. Since Kurt walked through the door, Sebastian has been unerringly and distantly polite, the picture of how to act towards a former classmate one barely remembers. If Kurt hadn’t caught the way Sebastian’s gaze keeps flicking to his white ring when he thinks Kurt isn’t paying attention, just like Kurt can’t help sneaking glances at the metal band Sebastian’s wearing, Kurt might’ve thought _he_ was delusional.

As it is, Sebastian’s charade that they’re only superficial acquaintances grates Kurt in a way he can’t articulate.

Seb’s eyes tighten at Kurt’s comment. Kurt finds it far too gratifying.

“ _So_ it doesn’t matter that she wants it, she doesn’t need it,” Seb insists. “The kid’s been cast in principal roles before, she’ll probably be cast in one again. On top of that, she’s popular at Hunter, she’s got plenty of teachers and friends feeding her ego. Perry doesn’t. This opportunity will mean more to her.”

“I wasn’t aware that that’s a criterion for auditions—" Kurt says hotly.

“It is when you’re talking about a youth company for underprivileged kids!”

“So we play favorites and compromise quality on a show that’s supposed to fundraise money for _equality_ of opportunity?” Kurt practically shouts.

“Stop putting—” Sebastian begins, his green eyes blazing. His hands flex, and he lifts about two inches off his chair before he stops himself. Kurt’s blood practically _sings_. If Seb wants to verbally spar, Kurt will rise—

Seb closes his eyes and takes a visible breath, and Kurt feels the energy fizzling out of his veins. It leaves him oddly bereft.

When he actually speaks, Sebastian only says, evenly, “Our break’s almost over. Let’s just focus on finishing auditions first and decide after we have all our options. Monica’s put the word out to other youth performance centers, so maybe there’s someone else on Mary's or Perry’s level.”

His restored calm irrationally makes Kurt angrier. Fucking law school and its mind tricks.

“But if nothing changes, I still—" 

“I concede you have a point, which I will fully consider after we have all the options on the table,” Sebastian says firmly, turning back to quickly glance at their list and his watch before leaving to call the next person in. Kurt stares after him, fuming. 

Kurt only just manages to pace a smile on his face when Sebastian comes back with a tiny Asian girl, about 16, 17, in a plain sweater and jean set. With her straight hair and hesitant smile, she looks sweet, and like she wants nothing more than to disappear into the walls.

“Hi”—Kurt says, pausing to reference the list—“Tian. My name is Kurt. I’m—”

“ ‘Tommy Peris’ in the original cast for ‘With Love, Wallace’!” she squeaks. “You were so great every time I saw you!”

He blinks, because while that “off-off-Broadway” role was his breakout role, he hadn’t expected any of the kids to know the show, let alone his casting in it.

Kurt beams at her, and tries not to preen—unsuccessfully, judging by the feeling of an eye roll he feels emanating from Sebastian.

Whatever. He’s in musical theater. No one goes into it hating recognition. And it made a change from morning auditions, when only a handful of the kids had even ever heard of his name.

I mean, Kurt knows he’s not Rachel, or Jonathan Groff, or anything. But he _was_ the “up-and-coming Broadway star” Equity supplied Triple A with to direct its spring musical when it won the Charitable trust grant. The kids could've at least been impressed that he does this professionally.

“I am! I’m glad you liked the show, it’s actually a personal favorite among my performances,” Kurt says. “What will you be reading for us today?”

“Eliza,” Tian says, chewing on her lips as she clasps her hands in front of her. Kurt gives her another encouraging smile, even as he looks down to see the next name on the list.

“ _Oh, you got me helpless_ ,” she begins, and Kurt’s eyes snap straight back to her. 

His eyes don’t stray off her for the entirety of the verse, at every perfect, blissfully anxious note in her tone. He barely remembers to cut her off at the right time. 

After she nervously thanks them and exits the room, he glances over at Sebastian. He gives Kurt a look back, his eyebrow arched coolly, but his hands are drumming on the table.

They’re clearly thinking the same thing. 

They’ve found their Eliza.

 

 

 

Unfortunately, that’s only one in a laundry list of disagreements between them solved. They still end up fighting like cats in the water about the rest of the casting choices, hours after the auditions in the practice room wrapped. 

They probably would’ve stayed there for the rest of the night, in fact, if they weren’t cut off near dinner time by Christian.

Christian, Sebastian’s—whatever. 

Kurt’s just about to explain his point _again,_ in even simpler terms to the idiot, when there is a quick, confident knock on the practice room door. Before Kurt can say anything, the door swings open and a man peeks in from behind the frame, his mouth curving into a tilted, charming smile as his eyes light on Sebastian.

“Are you about ready, Bass? I’m starving,” he says, but Sebastian is already throwing back on his jacket, and dismissing Kurt with something about how they can figure this out next time, or online. Kurt wants to protest, is about to in fact, when the stranger says, “Ah, you must be Bass’s co-director, Kurt,” and steps fully into the room, hand already raised for a handshake. 

His body is as handsome and clean-cut as his face, Kurt thinks resentfully.

Kurt has no choice but to also rise and take his hand.

The handshake is warm, and firm. Pleasant.

“Christian, nice to meet you in-person,” the stranger says. 

Sebastian hovers just behind Kurt, his bag already hoisted over his shoulder.  

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he says—and actually sounds _contrite_ about it, which,  <em>Kurt's</em> not the one who couldn't let small details go, and when did Sebastian know how to make a contrite face— “Didn’t think it would last so long.” 

“No worries,” Christian says, laughing and waving a careless hand. His white teeth are dazzling against his dark skin, practically outshining the pristine white cashmere sweater he’s got on. He leans one arm casually on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Not like I charge $1000 an hour for my time or anything. But it’s all fine if you’re grabbing the check tonight.”

“ _Please,_ it's not even $750,” Sebastian scoffs, but his eyeroll is fond. “But sure, I’ll pay.” 

“What a generous man, covering pizza and beer,” Christian says, smile still playing on his lips as he turns back to Kurt. “Is that ok? I’m sorry if I cut you guys off, I just wanted to check in. But if you need a couple more minutes, I can go back to chatting with Monica.”

Kurt folds his hands out of view, and drags out, “No, we’re all good. It’s probably better for us to take a break before coming back to it anyways. You two should go ahead with your Saturday night.” 

“Thanks, Kurt,” Sebastian says. There’s nothing off about his inflection, it’s perfectly even and normal. “Let’s talk over the rest later then.”  

“Have a good evening,” Christian offers, and then they’re turning away in tandem from Kurt, beginning some other conversation already—it sounds like it’s about work, Kurt can hear the word _case_.

Kurt is left wanting to stomp his feet and demand—something. 

Instead, he puts his pent-up energy in cleaning up the practice room, and editing the book, and making aggressive notes on possible staging.

Unlike _someone,_ he cares enough to put in his Saturday evening time.

Not that Kurt had dinner plans.

But only because he’s so exhausted from workshop rehearsals this week. Not because he was pathetic or lonely or anything.

He does have to leave when Monica comes over to lock up for the night.

Kurt now knows how the Triple A has become such a successful youth troupe and nonprofit. Their executive director is terrifying when she wants you gone. 

Kurt _almost_ name-drops Christian into the conversation. Just to get a bit more detail about who he is. After all, he was being so vague and mysterious.

But Kurt holds himself back.The last thing he needed was for Monica, who’s too sharp already, volleying questions at him about why he cares.

And what does the answer really matter, anyway?

Ir has no bearing on whether he and Sebastian will be successful, professional co-directors. 

Because that is all they will be. All they should be.

All Kurt should want them to be.

Telling himself that doesn’t help Kurt when he’s lying in bed that night, unable to stop wondering about Christian’s wide, graphic metal ring, and whether or not it’s a match with Sebastian’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling grateful and excited to hear others are interested in revisiting this silly pair, and incredibly flattered some of you have fond memories of the original story. 
> 
> Any guesses about the musical they're staging?


	4. Familiar faces (Sept, 2023)

“Sorry I’m late, Blaine,” Kurt says as he slides onto his side of their table and unwinds his scarf.  

Blaine looks up from his music sheet at Kurt, gentle and familiar smile already in place. “No worries, I’ve just been working. Do you mind taking a look? I’ve reworked the chorus a bit, so—” he begins easily, then trails off as his eyes lift to Kurt’s face.

“What?” Kurt says as he pets his hair. So it was a bit less styled than usual, he hadn’t thought it was so noticeable when he ran out the door this morning.

“You’re late _and_ your hair isn’t styled,” Blaine says, frowning. “Is something going on?”

Kurt scowls.

“My co-director bombarded me last night with an avalanche of micromanaging messages about the numbers we said _I’d_ lead rehearsals for,” he says. “When _I_ do musical theater for a living, and all he does is sit around all day in some fancy Manhattan office.”

Kurt omits how the conversation chain only started when Kurt messaged Sebastian some—completely reasonable—thoughts on Sebastian’s numbers. Or how even after the messages ceased in a storm of passive-aggressive snipes, Kurt couldn’t shut down his brain, and filled his phone with message draft after message draft he sorely wanted to send but knew he shouldn't.

But those things are on a need-to-know basis, and there’s no reason Blaine needs to know.

“The charity musical, right?” Blaine asks, with an adorably quizzical expression. “You’re still having trouble with that? I thought you must’ve talked it out with him by now, you’re usually so upbeat and accommodating.”

Kurt bites his tongue on his automatic indignant flare-up at being described as _upbeat_ and _accommodating._ Blaine doesn’t deserve the spillover effects of his irritation right now. And anyway, as far as Blaine’s interactions with Kurt is concerned, he’s correct.

And Kurt’s manifestation of those traits around Blaine is one of several hundred reasons their marriage ended up collapsing under its own weight.

“No, he’s absurdly difficult,” he says instead, because it’s true, and rises. “Be right back, I’m just going to order—do you want another?”

Blaine shakes his head, raising his half-full medium drip in a salute as Kurt grabs his wallet and wanders over to the counter. Tammy, one of his favorite baristas, is at the register today, and she shoots him a smile and rings him up for a mocha non-fat latte even as she’s asking what he wants.

As Kurt taps the rhythm of “The Schuyler Sisters” out on the counter, working through the blocking again in his mind as he waits, he can’t help thinking that really, he should be grateful that Blaine thinks so well of him. _Still_ think so well of Kurt, even after everything. And now that the two of them are no longer married, they don’t suffocate Kurt anymore, those expectations. He can think of them as a potential way of being now, one that probably _is_ objectively better, and not feel guilty when he does something petty and reckless instead.

Tammy calls his name, and Kurt takes the latte with an absent smile, turning back around towards Blaine— 

And promptly colliding into someone’s dove gray sweater, the entire contents of his cup splashing across the middle of the woven expanse and then splattering all over the floor.

“Fuck!” An all-too-familiar voice yells from somewhere above the stain, and dread pools instantaneously in the bottom of Kurt’s stomach.

Even as he’s pulling back to look at the man’s face, Kurt already knows that the world’s enacting some karmic revenge on him today.

Sebastian Smythe stands in front of him, hissing as he pulls the fabric soaked in scalding coffee away from his body.

“I’m… so sorry?” Kurt begins, then winces. Behind him, he hears Tammy swearing and then shouting, “Let me go get a mop!”

Sebastian’s eyes snap up from his sweater, his mouth already open for what’s sure to be a biting insult—only his mouth closes just as abruptly, and his eyes widen. The most unbearable beat of silence passes between them, as Kurt grimaces and Sebastian stares.

Then Sebastian’s rolling his eyes and glaring daggers at Kurt.

“I know you disagreed with me last night, but coffee’s a bit dramatic even for you, isn’t it?” Sebastian hisses, as he pulls the sweater over his head. Kurt shifts his eyes around uncomfortably, but thankfully Sebastian’s wearing an undershirt, even if it is so thin it’s practically see-through. “Couldn’t you have at least done it during rehearsals while I’m in my crappy clothes?”

“It was an accident!” Kurt insists, as he continues to stand there uselessly with his now mostly-empty mug.

Sebastian sighs. He folds his dirty sweater with an air of resigned distaste. “Fine, but you’re paying for the dry-cleaning,” he gripes. “I don’t care if your paycheck can’t afford it, the sweater’s top-quality cashmere.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at the rich prick, even as he’s internally sighing with relief. Maybe this will be fine, maybe Sebastian will just leave Kurt and Blaine’s coffee shop now and—

“Kurt, is everything all right?” Blaine says from behind Kurt with a soft touch to his shoulder.

Kurt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

When he’s re-opened them again, there Sebastian is, as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on where Kurt knows Blaine stands over his shoulder, the sweater hanging limply in his hand. 

“Sebastian, this is—” Kurt begins.

“I know who that is,” Sebastian says, at the same time as Blaine in complete innocence says, “Oh, you guys already know each other?”

He can see Sebastian’s green eyes go colder at that, until they look like nothing so much as shards of emerald. Kurt reaches out a hand, for—something, Sebastian’s sweater, an elbow—but Sebastian is already taking several steps back. 

“Blaine, this is—” Kurt tries again. _My former classmate and ex-boyfriend,_ he’s about to say, knowing he’ll have to supplement that later with an explanation of how Sebastian’s also Kurt’s co-director and yes, Kurt did file that info under the Blaine-need-not-know tag. Only Sebastian’s already smoothly shrugging his shoulders.

“Not really,” Sebastian says. His gaze pans over coolly to Kurt, and Kurt feels dismissed, disdained, like he was seventeen again and under the sneering eyes of the new Warbler from Paris for the first time. Any words Kurt had die in his throat. “We’re just putting on a charity musical together.”

“Oh, you’re his co-director!” Blaine says, all authentic friendliness. He reaches out a hand. “I’ve heard about you—My name’s Blaine, Kurt’s friend.”

Sebastian takes Blaine’s hand, his demeanor empty of a single tell, while Kurt burns with humiliation and shame and guilt. 

“I should go, I’m late for a meet-up with my friends,” Sebastian says as soon as he lets go of Blaine’s hand. He gives both Blaine and Kurt a nod. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Aren’t you going to get any coffee?” Kurt says dumbly, as Sebastian makes to turn away. Sebastian raises and eyebrow, and Kurt flushes. 

“I mean,” he says. His mouth is dry. He feels terribly, uncharacteristically uncertain. “You've just arrived, right? That’s what you came for? It’s, the coffee’s good, I could get it as an ap—”

“It’s fine,” Sebastian cuts him off. “Just a flash impulse while passing by on my way to my friend’s Airbnb. I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow.”

Kurt is left to stare at Sebastian’s retreating back as he walks out the door and is lost in New York’s crowds, with nothing but an undershirt on in the autumn wind.

“Huh,” Blaine says, and Kurt jolts to realize he’s still behind him, has come closer even. “I see what you mean by difficult. He’s not very approachable, is he?”

Kurt swallows. He places his mug back on the counter, just as Tammy re-emerges, mop in hand. 

“Oh,” she says. “The guy’s left already? He didn’t even ask for store credit or anything?”

Blaine laughs. “Nope,” he says, gentle tease in his voice. “Though apparently he’s going send Kurt the dry-cleaning bill.” 

Tammy tosses her dreads behind her shoulder and smiles. “Guess I owe Kurt one then, I was steeling myself for him to get all loud and righteous. Let me make you another latte in thanks, on the house.”

“I, yeah, sure,” Kurt says, still unable to look away from the door, “Thanks.”

Blaine catches something then, because he touches Kurt’s arm. When Kurt doesn’t respond, he takes him by the elbow and steers him back towards their table, even as Blaine is thanking Tammy.

“Okay, what is it?” Blaine says, once he’s set Kurt down and they’re sitting opposite each other again. “You’re being weird. And on that note, you’ve been weird about your co-director from the beginning too.” 

Kurt sometimes forget, among all the things that Blaine doesn’t get about him, that they had in fact been married for five years, that history with someone always comes with a bone-deep knowledge that's impossible to shake, whatever else might be true.

He takes a deep breath.

“He’s my high school ex,” he say. Kurt keeps his eyes on his hands, at the fingers pressing tightly into his palm. The finger pads are already turning red, throbbing where the coffee splashed him.

Blaine doesn’t say anything for quite a while. Finally, all he says is a small, “Oh.” Kurt hears him picking up his coffee, then putting it back down.

“Is he the one I met, that one time?” Blaine says. “Why didn’t you—"

“It didn’t seem important,” Kurt says. He knows it’s a bald-faced lie.

Blaine sighs. “I thought for a second that he looked kind of familiar. But then I figured it must’ve been one of those things where you vaguely remember faces you've passed on the streets.”  

Kurt bites his lips. “Could you—not tell Santana and Rachel? About my co-director being Sebastian?” He asks. “I don’t want them to… overreact or anything.”

When Blaine doesn’t respond, Kurt looks up to see him looking at Kurt with a thin, sad smile. Kurt hates that he’s put that expression there.

Blaine is one of his best friends, even now, and if anyone else had done it, Kurt would’ve cut the perpetrator down so hard he wouldn't have been able to stand afterwards.   

“It’d help, you know, if you would tell me more about him and what exactly happened,” Blaine says.

It’s a sore point for Blaine, Kurt knows. They used to have terrible fights about it, ones that ended the way their worst fights did-- with accusations of selfishness and envy and trust issues and Blaine sitting in sullen rage while Kurt swallowed the rage that had no outlet, because Blaine never yelled, never, and so Kurt hadn’t been able to either.  

But now, as then, Kurt can’t offer Blaine anything but silence. 

When Blaine doesn’t say anything else, Kurt looks up, and this time he lets all of his desperation show.  

“Blaine,” Kurt implores.

Blaine sighs.

“Fine,” he says, sounding defeated. “You should be glad that Rachel’s shooting a movie right now and Santana’s on location with her, because I’m not willing to lie if they ask directly. But I can not mention it when I’m talking with them.”

Kurt lets out a breath. 

“Not,” Blaine adds, “that they won’t find out who your co-director is when they’re back anyway.” 

“By then there won’t be any issues,” Kurt insists. “People work with their exes all the time. It’s not even that bad now.” 

Blaine shoots him a dubious look. “It looked plenty bad to me,” he points out, unnecessarily, “Assuming that Sebastian isn’t like that just because of the coffee.”

Kurt look downs l. He knows it’s true. But they were doing—well, not _well,_ but fine before, working together. Kurt will just speak to Sebastian tomorrow. Clarify things. Apologize maybe.

The look on Sebastian’s face, when Blaine asked who he was, makes Kurt want to vomit. 

Blaine tries to steer them back to safer topics, after. But that that look, the blankness of Sebastian's eyes, roam and roam around in Kurt’s mind. It makes it impossible for Kurt to follow the thread of any conversation Blaine attempts, until they finally admit their Sunday coffee catch-up is a lost cause this week and part ways early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! But I come back bearing a chapter that I think moves things a lot quite nicely, and sets up the core problem/mystery this fic deals with. I am hopeful the rest comes soon enough.
> 
> Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. As an extra incentive, leave me one and I'll respond with my normal cascade of thanks, and one of the best and/or most romantic lines in one of my fav fanfic works (because I've been re-reading a lot of them lately, and am pleased they've withstood the test of time, haha).

**Author's Note:**

> Title derived from, "And when I was young I didn't understand, but now, I know, how absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird" from The Time Traveler's Wife. Because I like the way it ties in to the first fic.
> 
> Then I found out it bears close resemblance to In the Presence of Absence by Mahmoud Darwish. I have actually read neither, but it's on my list, and the phrase is beautifully evocative.


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